Title: The Pet
Author: SkyFire

Rating: G
Summary: Someone wants a pet. Someone gets a pet.

Warnings: PWP, googoo faces. *grin*

Author's Notes:
1)A snippet with mostly no plot, no majorly slashy overtones.
Stole... er... *borrowed* a line from somewhere. You'll know it when
you see it. ;oP
2)If anyone can come up with a better title that won't give away the
whole story, please let me know! Thanks! :o)

Archive: Ask first. Otherwise, no.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never were. No profit being made. Rub it in, why
don't ye?

The Pet
by SkyFire

"How about a dog?"

"And have dog drool everywhere? And puddles in me boots? And all th'
rope chewed t' bits?"

A sigh. "How about a cat?"

"It'll climb up th' mast and get stuck!"

Another sigh. "A bird?"

"Cotton's got a parrot. Annoying thing, it is. Always ready to complain.
Or squawk. Or crap on me hat."

"A fish? How about a fish? They don't drool or chew, they don't climb,
they don't make noise..."




"Jack? Well?"

A sigh. "All right! All right! If ye want a pet that bad, ye can get a
fish. Happy now?"

Will grinned. "Yes!" He sat up, pulled on his boots.

Beside him on the deck, Jack sat up as well. "Hey now, where're ye goin'?"

Will gifted him with a short glance over one shoulder as he went to
climb down to the skif. "I have to get my fish before we leave port!"

"But--" But it was no use; Will was gone.


Will walked along the beach, a big jar in a net bag at his side, on his
way back to the Pearl. To his disappointment, the port town did not have
a shop that sold common pets, as did Port Royal.

And so he returned to the ship, fish-less in the grey dawn.

"Any luck, Will?" Jack asked as he climbed over the railing.

Will shook his head. "No," he sighed. "I got a nice jar for it, though."

"Ah well, lad, better luck next time," Jack said consolingly, wrapping a
gentle arm about Will's shoulders. "I'll keep an eye out fer ye, as well."

"Thanks, Jack."


The next port they approached boasted of its exotic heritage, and
international markets. If ever there was a port in the Caribbean likely
to have a pet shop, that was it.

"Dhaaaack! Y'haab t' go!" Will said stuffily. He had been soaked to the
skin a few days before during a tempest, and had developed a fever. He
lay bundled up in bed, cold and miserable. His nose was stuffed, he
shook with chills. But still he remembered the concession Jack had made
in his want for a pet. If he could not go and look for a pet fish, Jack
would just have to do so in his place. That was what a friend did, was
it not? Did nice things for a person when they were sick? "For be? I'b
sure a fish'd make be feel bedder!"

Jack rolled his eyes. As an argument, it was not one of Will's best.

But Will *was* sick. And he did want to visit the town anyway... He

"Where did ye put the jar, lad?"


A few hours later, Jack strode along the crowded market streets toward
the docks, grumbling to himself under his breath.

He had found pet shops aplenty. Four of them. Four pet shops full of dogs,
cats, and birds.

Not a fish in sight.

Will was not going to be happy.

He was nearly to the skif when something in the water caught his eye. He
stopped, looked more closely. He didn't think it was the sort of thing
that Will meant when he said he wanted a fish. With a sigh, Jack took a
few more steps toward the skif. Slowed. Stopped. Turned and walked

//Kinda cute,// he thought to himself. //Might just keep it fer meself.//

That thought in mind, Jack pulled out Will's fish-jar, leaned down and
scooped the creature up in it, along with a fair amount of seawater for
it to live in.

Then he carefully put the full jar back in its net bag, went over to the
skif and rowed himself and his new pet back to the Pearl.


Will stared. From Jack. To the jar. Back to Jack, who was grinning in
that slightly-proud, slightly-embarrased way of his.

"Dhaack," Will sniffled. "Dat's nod a fish."

Jack looked to the jar in his hands. "It's *sort of* a fish..."

"Dhaack, dat's a *jebby*fish!"

Jack's lower lip stuck out a little, stubbornly. He held the jar
posessively to his chest. "It's *me* jellyfish. Fear ye've gone and
given me th' pet germ, lad."


"I shall call him Squishy and he shall be mine and he shall be my
Squishy." Jack said firmly, then made a funny face at the small
jellyfish floating aimlessly in the jar of seawater.

Will stared. In his fever-muddled state, he could come up with no
coherent argument, and so conceded the battle. "I still wand a fish."

"We'll get ye yer fish, Will," Jack said, still making googoo faces at
the poor sea creature in the jar. "Ye'll have yer fish, and I'll have


The plotbunnies made me do it! *grin*

In case you didn't catch it, the line "I shall call him Squishy and he
shall be mine and he shall be my Squishy" is from last year's movie
'Finding Nemo'.

This is my second PotC-fic ever (the first being 'Weigh Anchor', posted
last night), so if you like it, please don't hesitate to click the
button down there and let me know! It really is appreciated!